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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22369666">In the Mangroves</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/carbonmonoxidepoisoning/pseuds/carbonmonoxidepoisoning'>carbonmonoxidepoisoning</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>6 Underground (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Magic and shit, also four is a siren so thats exciting, his name is antonio dodaro and he is a nonnas boi, six centric fic bc my boi deserves it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:34:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,028</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22369666</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/carbonmonoxidepoisoning/pseuds/carbonmonoxidepoisoning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Four | Billy/Six (6 Underground)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In the Mangroves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalkingGrape/gifts">TalkingGrape</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It truly was just the worst ever day he’d ever had in his life. He wasn’t about to go home just to smoke a hole in his left lung so Antonio walked himself down to the beach. In the shitty, stormy weather, it would for sure be abandoned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The salt spray bit as his face and he wrapped his rain jacket tighter as he meandered along the sand. Another couple minutes and he’d reach the mangroves. He paused along the way to watch as the water in the bay thrashed about agitated and angry. The sea was a spiteful god and he was smarter than to test it on a quiet day. He turned and continued his stroll. Even through the unrelenting rain, the mangroves welcomed him with the familiar smell of earth and brine. Many a lonely hour as a child was spent here, befriending crabs and critters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Under the heavy canopy of the trees, the rain had gone from a relentless torrent to a heavy patter and his grip on his jacket loosened. The muddy ground squelched and slipped beneath his shoes. It was hard to see where he was going in the dark but he didn’t need eyes to know where he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally he reached his favourite spot, a breath between the trees that looked directly out to sea. It was like a little cove, about five feet wide, maybe 10 feet deep. Small enough that the canopy above didn’t break. You’d miss it if you didn’t know it was there. He’d once taken his mother to see his spot, right before the cancer took her from them. He was sixteen and she was the sun in his sky, the one who hung the stars and moon every night. “Mama’s boy,” his Nonna had always said, and it was true, he followed her like a puppy everywhere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His pants were already completely soaked from the rain so he simply sat himself down on the wet ground, reminiscing the times with his mother. The sea was truly frightful today, it had even washed a giant piece of driftwood into his little cove. He decided he’d come back on a calmer day and remove it. Maybe if it was a nice enough piece, he could turn it into something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then the driftwood coughed and Antonio shot up to his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck?” Antonio was smart in many ways, but self preservation was not one of them. He, of course, was on a steady intercept course with the now moving log.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave me alone,” came a voice. The sound tolled like a church bell in his head and his heart stopped beating for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” he called out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go away!” the voice yelled again, but it lacked the ringing quality he’d heard before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Squinting through the darkness, he began to make out a head of blond hair and a pale torso.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck,” Antonio’s mind was coming to the worst case scenarios as he rushed to help the man who was trying to scramble away from him. “Dude! Stop!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde was not giving him the time of day, pulling himself through the mud with his arms back out to sea. A concussion, and a bad one at that if Antonio could guess. The blood loss from the metal debris stuck in his back probably was no help either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antonio wasn’t having it. Now shin deep in muck, he grabbed the guy by the arm. “I’m trying to help you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde snapped around to face him, eyes wild with fear and confusion. “How- Why- You shouldn’t be-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antonio had frozen too. The blonde’s eyes glowed blue like beach water from island getaway ads and shocked him like electricity up his spine. It took a moment, but he found his words again. “I can see that you’re hurt. You’re trying to escape into the sea for fucks sake. Let me take a look at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde only seemed to become more agitated, his breathing erratic. “Let me go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antonio wasn’t having it. “As soon as I’ve had a look at you. You look like you’ve hit your head pretty bad. It’ll be five minutes and then you can swim back out to sea or whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t do anything for me.” In the wrist beneath his fingers, he could feet the blonde’s heart rate skyrocketing. “I’m not human.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Antonio just stared dumbly back. “Come again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his free hand, the blonde brushed away at the mud on his legs, revealing scales that seemed to glow and shimmer under their own power. “I’m a siren, and frankly I’ve got issues bigger than a head bump if I’ve lost my influence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antonio’s grip was loosening, awestruck and positively stupefied with wonder. “A siren?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde took the opportunity to rip his arm back from the brunette’s grasp. “Yes, we’re real. Disgusting, whatever. Can you just fuck off and give me a bit of peace?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antonio sighed heavily. “Let me run home and grab my first aid kit and treat whatever it is stuck in your back. Human or siren, that can’t be good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The siren said nothing and simply stared at him with fear in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Don’t leave. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no promise in the siren’s eyes, but Antonio trusted him anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he waded through the mud, back onto the grass and sprinted for his flat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Antonio Dodaro!” his nonna had yelled when he got home, trekking muck from the front door to his room, but she softened when she saw his tattered first aid bag in his hands. “Saving the world again?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Nonna,” he apologised, kissing her cheek on his way out. “I’ll clean up when I get back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The short, plump woman shook her head and tutted her teeth and she watched him sprint back down the hall to the exit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course he was disappointed when he got back to his cove to find the siren gone. A despondent sigh escaped his lips as he plopped down along the edge of the grass, muddy boots kicking at the sandy muck below. He laid back, letting the rain patter at its own will onto his face. During his little runaround it had slowed to a pleasant drizzle. With his eyes closed he conjured the image of those striking blue eyes. The fear he saw, the unnatural brightness, the raw magic behind them. He tried to remember the feeling of the siren’s skin under his fingertips, icy cold to the touch, how they seemed to slip more in one direction than the other. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Probably microscopic scales</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he told himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that you?” a voice asked, breaking his thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antonio shot back up to a sitting position, wiping at the raindrops that had settled on his face. “Hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde revealed himself from where he’d hidden behind a thick tree trunk. “Sorry, I was scared someone else would see me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antonio was beyond relieved. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said instead, hopping into the groves and wading over to the blonde. “No one comes here besides me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” the siren’s voice was tight and quiet with anxiety.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The brunette unzipped his kit, wedging it between some roots. “Let’s have a look at that back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde hesitated, but turned to show the man his wound. A piece of metal, what seemed like a thin piece of construction rebar, had lodged itself between his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t look good,” he told him, a small torch between his teeth. “It might be deep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just do what you gotta do,” the blonde sounded resigned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, on the count of three,” he told him. “One-” and yanked the sucker out, a wad of cotton in his other hand quick to apply pressure immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The siren screamed and Antonio felt his soul almost shake out of his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are- are you okay?” he asked after a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand tightly gripped at his mouth to hold back the sob that would’ve surely otherwise escaped, he nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry for lying to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The siren just nodded again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s fine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to disinfect your wound and close it with sutures,” Antonio told him. “It’ll sting but nowhere near as painful as that rebar coming out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More nodding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he got to work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he cleaned up the blood that had burst out from the sudden removal, he was pleased to find it had slowed to a trickle already. The siren hissed and squirmed when the applied disinfectant, but said nothing more, keeping tight lipped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Antonio. I live in the town with my Nonna,” he told him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s a nonna?” his patient asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My family’s from a place called Italy,” he explained, suddenly realising it was a miracle in itself that he was communicating with a whole other species. “In Italy we call our grandmothers Nonna.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The siren hummed thoughtfully, then grunted a bit as Antonio started the sutures. “I never met my grandmother,” he revealed. “I was born in a school of fifty, barely know who my own mother is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The culture shock was real, but Antonio tried to be cool about it. “Huh, a big family then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really, we kind of fend for ourselves as soon as we’re born,” he said matter of factly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Antonio had no idea what to say to that, so he quickly finished the rest of the sutures in silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re all patched up,” he said as the siren turned to face him. “The sutures will dissolve in a couple months, maybe sooner considering you’re under water all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The siren, continuing with his theme of silence, said nothing and stared at him with his big, bright, doe eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re, uh, free to go, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” was all the siren said, before he shuffled out to the open water, his tail shining under the water as the mud fell away, and disappeared into the depths under the cover of the stormy night sky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Antonio thought about that night for the next three months. The siren’s piercing eyes, the way he shivered when he touched his cold skin, the glow of his scales, the ring of his voice that seemed to call him to the sea every moment his mind wasn’t occupied with something else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The mangrove was gone now, some property developer bought it out and poured concrete over all of it to put up luxury waterfront apartments. But it didn’t stop Antonio from breaking into the construction site in the middle of the night to return to where his cove once was. They’d built a dock over it now, for the future residents’ luxury yachts or whatever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sat at the end of the dock, jeans rolled up to his knees and feet in the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Antonio</span>
  </em>
  <span> he heard a call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart raced and his head spun in every direction looking for the source. It couldn’t be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then there he was, the beautiful siren from the mangroves, his head and shoulders above the water in front of him. Eyes just as bright as he remembered. He sat stunned, not believing his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember me?” the siren asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh- I- uh-” he stuttered. “Yeah- yeah, uh, yeah I remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The siren beamed at him with his perfect pearly whites and eyes barely a crease each. “I’m so glad! I was hoping I’d see you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W- uh-” Antonio couldn’t string enough words together for a sentence, struck by the beauty of his smile. “How’s your back?” he asked instead as the siren pulled himself onto the dock beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m perfect, thanks to you,” the blonde replied. “I’m sorry I was so rude that night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to be cool a gave a one shoulder shrug. “It’s fine, you were scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m making things right, I’m Billy,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Billy,” Antonio echoed dumbly, “nice to meet you.” There was a beat, and he was sure his jaw was still on the floor. “You’re beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Billy beamed again, brighter than the full moon that they sat under and leaned forward. “I think you are too,” and kissed him.</span>
</p>
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